


Brushes and Blushes

by clotpolesonly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actor Arthur, M/M, Makeup Artist Merlin, blushiness and flirting, honestly that's all it is, remix eligible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 09:12:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7354942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clotpolesonly/pseuds/clotpolesonly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time Merlin began tracing color onto Arthur’s mouth, Arthur was certain he was standing closer than he needed to. The drag of the brush against his parted lips was torture when Arthur had a sudden and intense desire for something else to take its place. From the way Merlin was biting his own lip again, he didn’t think he was alone in that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brushes and Blushes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlinsdeheune (sindhunathi)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sindhunathi/gifts).



> Just a quick fic churned out upon request!! Rambling in the tags on tumblr leads to some of the funnest little oneshots sometimes. ^_^
> 
> (Un-beta-ed, mostly un-edited, all typos are mine, and so forth and so on =D)

Arthur scrolled through the five text messages he had received from Morgana in the last hour and deleted all of them without bothering to reply; it was the beginning of a discussion he and his sister had had many times before, and one that he wasn’t willing to have again. If he wanted to listen to his sister bitch about his personal life, then he would prefer to do so with a drink in his hand instead of in his trailer with a full day of shooting ahead of him precluding the consumption of copious amounts of alcohol. He was considering searching the internet for some sort of over-utilized meme to send her to keep from engaging in further conversation when a knock on his trailer door made him jump.

Leon pushed his door open unceremoniously and leaned his head in, one hand on the door and the other still on his earpiece. “Hey, mate,” he said, harried and distracted, “they’re ready for you in makeup. You’ve got an hour til camera starts rolling.”

“Thanks, Leon,” Arthur said, stuffing his mobile back into his pocket sans meme. “And oh, hey!” he called before Leon had fully retreated. “I take it this means Daegal’s replacement is here? Do I know them?”

“No, it’s a new guy,” Leon told him. “Funny bloke; I like him. He should be waiting for you.”

Arthur nodded and let him go without any more fuss. He dug around in the mess of detritus that made up his trailer until he found his script, tucked it under his arm along with two water bottles and a granola bar, and headed out. He got waylaid a few times: once by a stagehand with an update to his filming schedule; once by Sophia, the pouty blonde playing his red herring love interest; and once by an experienced guest star he would’ve loved to keep talking to if he had the time.

He was definitely late by the time he made it to the makeup trailer, but not by a whole lot. Even so, the man waiting for him there had his arms crossed over his chest and an annoyed frown on his face.

“Late much?” the man asked, probably rhetorically but definitely snappish. The tone pulled Arthur up short. He usually prided himself on not being pretentious or arrogant or holier-than-thou just because he was a film star and he never demanded special treatment from the crew he worked with, but that didn’t stop a lot of people from _offering_  him special treatment. It had been a long time since someone had snapped at him like that.

“Er, sorry?” he said, dropping his script and foodstuffs on the counter in front of the long, lit-up mirror. He flopped into the spinny chair and twisted around to face him. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Should’ve been here ten minutes ago,” the man pointed out stubbornly, though he was already reaching for a brush. “Not a very good first impression, I must say.”

“Well, yours isn’t particularly glowing either,” Arthur sniped back, strangely stung. “I don’t even know your name and you’re already berating me.”

“My name is Merlin--” He brandished a very fluffy brush in a rather threatening manner. “--and punctuality, or lack thereof, is a pet peeve of mine. Now close your eyes and hold still.”

Arthur huffed in annoyance but did as he was bid. He let this _Mer_ lin slather creams on his face and dust him with powders and whatnot, sinking into that distracted sort of thoughtlessness that came with having to sit still for long periods of time.

His mind wandered back to Morgana and her nagging, as it often did when he feared she might be right and didn’t want to admit it. So maybe it had been a while since his last successful relationship -- if one could call “successful” any relationship that didn’t last as, obviously, he was currently single and had been for quite some time. He didn’t mind being single, really; it was simpler that way, especially with the media circus being what it was and would always be. But his meddling, well-meaning sister had gotten it into her head that he was _lonely_  and needed someone to _support_  him and _knock him on his ass_  sometimes, as if combativeness was something to look for in a significant other. Of course, considering Morgana’s personality, he wouldn’t be surprised it that was actually number one on her list of criteria for a partner.

He didn’t need a significant other. Even if he watched telly alone on the rare evenings he had free, or subsisted primarily off of microwavable meals, or had been considering getting a cat lately. Even if it had been nearly a year since the last time he had even gotten laid (off-screen, at least) and he was starting to forget what genuine, unscripted human interaction was like. That didn’t mean he was lonely _or_  desperate, thank you very much.

“Eyes up.”

Arthur obediently opened his eyes and looked up, letting Merlin come at him with an eyeliner pencil. It wasn’t until his lower lash line had been traced to his satisfaction that Arthur got a good look at him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t _looked_  at him before, but that had been at a relative distance and with a haze of irritation between them. Now there was nothing at all between them, including space. Merlin’s face was barely five inches away from his and _wow._ How had the man even gotten into makeup when his own skin was flawless? Creamy and pale and smooth without a single pore in sight even up this close, close enough to put high definition television to shame.

Merlin’s fingers was warm against his face, smudging rouge across the arch of his cheekbones in firm, sweeping motions. Arthur hoped his sudden, embarrassing turn of thought wasn’t manifesting itself in a blush; it would be impossible to miss like this. But if it was, Merlin didn’t seem to have noticed. He was reaching for another little pot of cream, Arthur wasn’t sure what, and a little brush. He had his bottom lip caught between his teeth and when he released it, it came away plump and wet and a healthy, delicate pink that no one lipstick seemed able to replicate.

“Eyes closed.”

If Arthur was a bit slow in following that instruction, it was only because he made the mistake of meeting Merlin’s eyes directly first and realizing how incredibly blue they were. Arthur’s own eyes were blue, a type of swoon-worthy blue that teen magazines all over the world ranted and raved about, but they were nothing like _that_ , all deep and stormy and multifaceted and surrounded by a fringe of long, dark eyelashes. The man looked like he was wearing a double coat of mascara but Arthur was willing to bet he hadn’t touched the stuff. Objectively speaking, he was almost jealous of those eyelashes, as his own were blonde and very hard to see under normal circumstances.

Arthur finally snapped his eyes closed when Merlin’s eyebrows pulled down into a displeased V, wrinkling his forehead and putting a little crease between those beautiful eyes. At Merlin’s impatient huff, Arthur raised his own eyebrows high and directed his eyes down to smooth out the area he needed to work with. Arthur found himself more fidgety than he usually was; getting makeup done was something he had always just tuned out, mind occupied elsewhere, but he was very much in the moment now and unable to focus on anything but the warmth of Merlin’s hands and the soft sound of Merlin’s breathing.

When he was allowed to open his eyes again, he found Merlin bent over the counter a bit, rummaging around for something. He was tall and lean, his shoulder blades moving smoothly under the tight fabric of his t-shirt in a way that made Arthur’s mouth go dry like it hadn’t in ages. Maybe Morgana was right and he _was_  a little desperate if he was really this mesmerized by an attractive stranger who obviously already disliked him. Arthur shifted in his seat.

“I’m sorry I was late,” he blurted out. Merlin turned to look at him, pretty lips open in a little moue of surprise. He had amazing bone structure, Arthur noticed, eyes lingering on the jut of his cheekbones and the sharp cut of his jaw. Arthur cleared his throat. “I got held up by Sophia and Sefa. I swear I’m not usually that behind schedule.”

Merlin looked him up and down, apparently fighting his bad mood and what seemed to be an inherent skepticism. Then a little smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he turned back to his search. “And when you are, are you usually that much of an ass about it or am I just special?” He was smiling outright when he turned back, yet another slightly differently shaped brush in hand.

Arthur had to smile back, helpless in the face of what felt like some sort of forgiveness. “There’s just something about you,” he said, giving Merlin a once over of his own. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Arthur had been right earlier: it was impossible to miss a blush this close up. Merlin didn’t respond to that, instead busying himself with highlights and bronzer and the fiddly little makeup things Arthur had never bothered to ask the purpose of. Arthur let him work quietly, stealing glances in the mirror that told him, yes, he looked good and, yes, Merlin was definitely qualified for his job. That the mirror was positioned just right to give him a glimpse of a well-formed backside in well-fitting jeans was beside the point.

He hoped he wasn’t imagining the way Merlin was stealing glances at him too. He didn’t think he was, but he was feeling sharp and hot under the collar and strangely nervous. Merlin’s proximity was getting to him in a way Daegal’s never had, but then Daegal had never had eyes that sparkled and the gall to snipe at the film’s leading man on his very first day on set.

By the time Merlin began tracing color onto Arthur’s mouth, Arthur was certain he was standing closer than he needed to. The drag of the brush against his parted lips was torture when Arthur had a sudden and intense desire for something else to take its place. From the way Merlin was biting his own lip again, he didn’t think he was alone in that.

But Merlin finished his task and pulled away with a quiet clearing of his throat, leaving Arthur feeling strangely unbalanced with his abrupt absence. Merlin spritzed him with a setting spray, quick and professional, and stood back to give him one more look-over. With a decisive nod, he gave an expansive gesture which Arthur took as permission to leave. But he found that he didn’t want to.

As Merlin turned back to his station, probably to tidy up before the next actor arrived to be made camera-ready, Arthur took hold of his arm. Merlin gave him a look, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, but he didn’t pull away and Arthur took that as an encouraging sign. Slowly, cautiously, Arthur stepped forward into Merlin’s space, realizing as he did so that Merlin was just a bit taller than him. Merlin didn’t back away, even as Arthur came close enough that their chests brushed together, standing his ground in the face of Arthur’s advance.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, a low murmur in the still air they shared between them. There was something of a request in it, seeking permission to move forward, to press closer, to find out if those lips were as soft as they looked. Soft or not, they curled upward into a real smile that managed to be caught somewhere between shy and smug.

Just as Arthur leaned in for a kiss, Merlin put a hand on his chest and pushed him away, but he was still smiling.

“I just put that lipstick on you,” he said, all warmth and laughter now, “and it’s perfect as it is. There is no way I am letting you smudge it up before you even get on camera.”

Arthur stared at him, open-mouthed and disbelieving. “You could always reapply it, you know,” he said.

Merlin gave him a look of faux-contemplation. “I suppose I could,” he mused, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Then he shrugged, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms again. “Or you could come back here later.”

“I’m booked solid until well after nightfall,” Arthur said with something of a whine, never regretting his demanding filming schedule more than in that moment. “You’ll likely be gone long before I have a moment free.”

Merlin shrugged again, setting about his tidying with a persistent smirk on his face. “Then I guess you’ll just have to try again tomorrow. Besides,” he said, throwing a decidedly _come hither_  look over his shoulder, “I don’t kiss on the first date anyway.”

As Leon came bustling in to drag him off to their first location, Arthur decided that, if he had anything to say about it, there would definitely be far more dates in their future. And if Morgana’s shriek when he called to tell her about the encounter over lunch was anything to go by, she was almost as excited about the prospect as he was. Almost.


End file.
